


where's the world that doesn't care? maybe i could meet you there (month five)

by Hanaasbananas



Series: Going Through The Motions [5]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 12:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20892209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanaasbananas/pseuds/Hanaasbananas
Summary: She wonders if in time, he will stop trying to leave his mark, to erase the ghost of D'Artagnan's touch that lingers on her still, keeping her from him.Constance's new normal





	where's the world that doesn't care? maybe i could meet you there (month five)

**Author's Note:**

> This instalment was actually the first thing I wrote in this verse' so it's very dear to me, even if it makes me really sad at the same time lmao

Constance doesn’t cry aloud anymore.

Bonacieux thinks it unbecoming, and God knows she has sinned against him enough in this lifetime. Instead she throws herself into being a good wife. She gives her husband no chance to complain, preparing only his favourite meals; mending his clothes before he notices they are fraying; cleaning every inch of their house until it is spotless and gleaming.

Most importantly though, she ensures that she is ready when he visits her bed— more frequently than ever before, and with a fervour he’d never before possessed. Because even with her renewed commitment to him, he senses it; her distance.

(She wonders if in time, he will stop trying to leave his mark, to erase the ghost of D'Artagnan's touch that lingers on her still, keeping her from him.)

Digging her fingers into the scratchy quilt beneath her, Constance stares up at the ceiling, desperately trying to remember the way D’Artagnan would worship every inch of her that he uncovered, his breath hot against her flushed skin.

They spent the night together, once—D’Artagnan and her. Bonacieux had gone trading in the next town over so D’Artagnan had taken full advantage, buying flowers for her hair, and procuring the best wine he could beg from Athos. Later, as they’d giggled like a pair of newlyweds, he’d swept her off her feet when she stumbled and carried her over the threshold into his room.

He’d danced with her, she remembers.

Humming a tune he’d heard in court, D’Artagnan spun them around the room in a waltz, his hand warm in hers as he dipped her back, swallowing her breathless laughter with a kiss when she clutched desperately at his shoulders to keep from falling.

Now, she gets her husband's hand on her chin, pulling her face down to meet his eyes, forcing her to look and see the revulsion that she has inspired in him.

Afterwards, when Bonacieux lies spent by her side, she will dutifully take the herbs he gives her for nightmares and lie awake while he slumbers beside her, pressing her lips together tightly and feeling tears soak her face like a summer rain.

But for now, she closes her eyes and thinks of reverence in dying candlelight, feather light kisses down her neck and _you are my light_ murmured in her ear like a prayer.

**Author's Note:**

> Next week: the finale! so there will actually be some semblance of plot. Let me know what you thought!


End file.
